


Three's A Crowd

by Imriel_Montreve



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Frotting, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Piers Is Good At Blowjobs, Pokemon Battles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 04:00:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30083148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imriel_Montreve/pseuds/Imriel_Montreve
Summary: Being boyfriends with the top leader has its perks, especially when he gets enough leash to take you on a week long holiday in Circhester. The tamer of the dragons couldn’t have planned a better trip, but it’s what he didn’t plan for that interferes with Piers’ relaxation. He is NOT having a Champion Time.3rd Person POV, Piers Centric (though Raihan and Leon have their parts as well). Seven Chapters plus Epilogue, Complete
Relationships: Dande | Leon/Kibana | Raihan/Nezu | Piers, Dande | Leon/Nezu | Piers, Kibana | Raihan/Nezu | Piers
Kudos: 17





	Three's A Crowd

Atmospheric, dark, flesh on flesh, as bodies packed the venue wall to wall in waiting. Too much time had passed since the streets of Spikemuth thrummed with the crowd chaos of people filing into the arena; tonight would more than make up for the dilapidation home had fallen into. The energy of the pit was palpable as the floors vibrated with bass and amp checks, building up an electric excitement that was more than the latent discharge of the Toxitricity behind the curtains. The air crackled and got hearts racing with pumps of anticipatory adrenaline shared by the hive mind of the thousands, skin to skin in the heat-and-sweat aroused crowd here for one singular purpose, voices raised in one long chant: _Piers! Piers! Piers!_

Since Marnie had started her gym challenge and all but left the nest, Piers reclaimed his love of music and the driving force of his musical career once more, and did a few street performances here and there when travelling to see her. A spectator’s video went viral after the Dragon Leader Raihan got his hands on it and it was the push Piers needed to drop his music to the Applin streaming service, which brought more and more regular folk to Spikemuth’s gym to watch matches in hopes they’d catch a glimpse of one of his battle concerts. More traffic bolstered the economy and bit by bit the town experienced rebirth, sucking a shuddering breath through its old lungs and rising from the bones of ruin. Tonight marked the first full-fledged concert of Piers’ restored career, and seemingly all of Galar had packed itself into Spikemuth’s narrow streets and alleys. The whole town came alive and Piers’ shows could be heard all the way to Hammerlocke. It was time to turn up.

The lights went down in the arena, birthing blackness with the loud CLICK sang from tripping breakers and the crowd gasped together in breathy elation. The dark emergence drew close, so close and the chanting grew louder. The last of the mic checks had been done, all save for the most important. This was by design and intent: all Piers’ shows, from the smallest of rundown back alley venues to the largest of professional stadiums, beheld intimacy between his voice and the crowd. The music was the sheets and the sweat that held them, his voice the sensation of pleasure entering the body and holding you right on the brink of climax. Deep, throaty and smooth, it rumbled through the soul and nestled in the heart, contrasted with the higher notes of his choruses and cries that sizzled against the skin and raised gooseflesh. Intimacy sent people in droves to these secret shows, craving the experience that could only be felt LIVE.

Fingertips pittered on the windscreen of the lead mic in a noise that snapped into submission the attention of any attendant with eyes downcast to the skull-anointed mic stand signature to the Dark Leader’s look.

“Check.”

The first glimmer of the velvet restraints that held the crowd together in the arena came soft in the drawling accent, echoing clear. It raised a wail of delight from the crowd, a crowd that set to capsize under excitement at any moment from the impending show.

“Check check, mic one.”

Clear, loud, ringing true and drowning the undertones of the screams the crowd gave, Piers’ voice rumbled through the stadium in prelude. The crowd pulsed, so close to Piers and strung with frenetic energy, a verve engendered by Piers once described by Raihan like an Electric Terrain at the end of the first show he had attended before they were more. _“Not a damn soul could fall asleep charged like THIS. I feel it through my whole fuckin’ body, mate.”_

“Alright!” Piers’ cry signaled the start of the show and every member of the writhing pit knew commencement had come. “Good evening, Spikemuth! Are you ready to hear my humble song?”

The lights came up then, illuminating the once-dark stage in a magenta and white blaze. Piers drifted to the centerstage in a space carved just for him, caught in the glow of the lights. A few members of Team Yell ran from behind him unseen and split off to their respective areas of the stage to pick up their instruments. Steps took their time to fall in front of the other in manners critics would call a gimmick, though that assumption was dead wrong. Piers took in a breath through his nose as he carried his mic to the center stage, trying to quell his shaking nerves, juxtaposed between the peace that came with belonging amidst the show and the core-wracking anxiety that picked at his cuticles and gnawed at his stomach when faced with social situations. 

Fuck anxiety, this was his element, here, hair up, clad in a second skin of black jeans so tight imagination lost out to the reality of what he packed, top a black tank drooping from his sharp collarbones and angled shoulders. Here, suffused with light that emblazed the whetted angles of his body. Here, with the vibration of the first few baselines of his song thrumming through the soles of his short black boots. Here, in the amplification as his twin Toxitricity lent their energy to the amps and speakers around him in demi-aggressive strums to the poison globules on their chests. Here, singing his humble song for all of Galar tonight. 

**_I hope you, do, I hope you suffer._ **

The first growls of his voice rumbled over the animal cries of the masses that caught on to the opening song from the upswing familiar chords that became the catalyst for the churning mosh at the center of the arena. Bodies in pleasure broke down to base instincts and the need to rage like the churning seas of Outer Spikemuth against those sharing the same energy stirred up his crowd. Enrapt, the stadium teemed to a max-capacity pleasure-pit sustained by low bass vibes summoning a crescendo of electric guitar pulses cut through with high percussions of drum cymbals and snares.

**_Just like I suffered._ **

Piers sowed chaos and stood in the center of it, quite literally. His steps didn’t stop at the lip of the stage, no. His grip choked up on his mic and he lifted the apparatus to his lips, continuing to sing. He closed his shadowed eyes and stepped clean off the stage and into the six foot drop down to the concrete floor below. He never fell though; a sea of a thousand hands rose to lift him, supporting him on the heels of adoring palms and bracing with the arms of unyielding support. Step by step Piers crossed the crowd on steady hands and even footing, neither his voice nor his balance wavering. His music polarized the outcast and brought together Galarians from all walks of life, gave people something to hold on to in the dark and burn in a fire inside them. His music sang to troubled hearts and creative minds, to those that did not fit in to the status quo, the individuals who rebelled against the masses and refused to follow along blindly in life. He gave from his core and in return he received adoration that held him up in the darkest of pits, metaphors aside. Piers stood in the center of the arena on the hands and hopes of the people around him, singing his humble song to any who would listen. It was this very support that rebuilt his home and restored his faith in himself. 

He fell into his next song with ease, enwreathed by the unanimous voice of ten thousand that became one. Everyone around him knew his songs and sang them in earnest with him. Piers fell into the music surrounding him, the base and drums hitting a little differently from his current position. He no longer felt the music through his soles, but instead through his core and limbs. The static of the air around the crowd crackled over his pale skin and soaked him with the collective adrenaline of his fans. 

**_Still each time I always meant every word, every one. Though in time they finally bent, every word, every one._ **

****

A few pics were snapped from backstage of this beautiful display of Piers belting out his emotionally charged ballads, back to the viewer displayed in wild hair and thin pale arms punching up towards the ceiling with a rally cry to unite those below him – pictures that would never surface the public eye but rather were for a personal, private vault. 

**_I will wait for you, she said. I will wait for you, so spoke misery._ **

Piers doubled over his center of balance to brace his body for the guttural screams that ripped up from his throat and tore through the crowds. He sang with his whole body, dredging up from his core to provide the power behind his voice he needed. He had an impressive range that spanned chirping, pop-ish highs and fell to rich lows that incited quivers to anyone that heard the sensual siren song that came from within. The screams took a considerable deal of energy, so his set list bounced back and forth from punchy, upbeat hits to hard, punk anthems that slammed fast beats and chanting choruses. Everyone knew Piers’ lyrics, memorized every word of his lines, and it afforded him a moment to catch his breath as the crowd lifted their voices and carried him. The second song found its end drawing near in lulling, drawled final lines of his song. Balance toppled askew with boots rising above his midpoint when the fell of falling wormed through a tightened core, Piers leaned back and fell into the rolling sea of limbs and hands, mic up and crooning the last line of his song. On his back, he rode the surf of bodies back to the stage, eyes closed and safe in the net of his song.

**_I will ride straight through, as I wait for you, dear, endlessly._ **

****

The last syllable fell from his lips after the music had cut, focusing just on his voice, and the lights went out. This allowed him to climb back onto the stage unseen with a heave on his wiry arms. Only Team Yell could see his movements and the few short hand gestures that signaled what song to start into next. The lights went up, and Piers was back center stage like magic to the eager, frothing crowd. He pushed on to the next song, no time for a break in-between. The guitar riffs picked back up in a quick beat, switching to a faster song. Pier’s foot bounced as he counted out the beats to hit his queue _three, four_ , head nodding in time with his foot. The moment hit and the music opened for his voice to rip back out over the crowd and he threw his body into it, the wild spray of his hair sending his face into obscurity. He looked as wild as the badger-Pokémon he raised, feral in posture, energy, and color. He had set the energy for the night and the crowd had rose to embrace it with chants and howls that picked up in fervor. He didn’t need to look to know why the crowd went wild; from the massive wall of amps his twin Toxtricity had begun to scale the thumping blocks to stand at the top of. He felt the sizzle of their own excitement crackle through the air and knew the crowd must feel it too as their cheers drowned his vocals. A natural break fell in the song and he took the opportunity to call out to both his audience and his Pokémon.

“Let’s turn it up!”

Electric plasma rippled over his stage as his boys roared in agreement from the pinnacle of the speaker stack they had climbed, strumming their chests in time with the music. The result came with the illumination of Piers’ thin body at the center of the stage in blue and yellow strobes and a physical _pump_ with each strum of the guitar. Sensation overtook him and he no longer felt grounded to his stage, rather he lost control of the confines of his body and felt his energy flowing ever outward. His team, his Pokémon, his audience all came together for the duration of his song in a shared force-field of unifying energy and he felt _alive._

As the faster song winded down to the last refrain his hand fell behind his back and he signaled to his team. They caught the drift and geared for the next song of the set list. Unseen gestures indicated Piers began to feel the strain and needed to pull off, and in response his team moved into a song that allowed him to use the more melodious parts of his voice as his stamina waned. He needed a breather.

One long, low rift carried out over the stadium, mixed with a bit of electric melody and Piers pushed himself to give his all; no matter how badly he needed a break, he never let any of his songs falter. He owed that to them.

**_Flesh on flesh, on the dry earth. Our reflections are the same._ **

****

The song came easy, his voice more speaking through the verses. He worked his way through them on to the chorus, maintaining all of the energy they had built; slower songs never brought down the hype and excitement. His Low-Key Toxtricity bristled a brilliant blue and strummed its chest to the deep beat of the slower song and bobbed and weaved in pleasure. Piers weaved in his own manner, letting his body move as it saw fit. He had incredible stage energy that made his concerts _fun_ when stripped down to the barest essence. He brushed his multicolored side bang back and closed his pale eyes to deepen his number and crooned down to the pit of bodies enrapt by him.

**_Here in the golden mirror, watch every word you say. Shatter and find a way to cut like golden days._ **

****

The audience stayed wrapped in him, and he in his song poured the last bit of stamina he had within him into the verses that came like rain on parched earth, flooding the cracks and sustaining what the drought left behind. He was so close, so close to a moment’s reprieve, to a chance to breathe, to wet his weakened throat, though it felt like hours away. He had to keep going, he had to push himself through. Nothing else mattered more in this second that the performance he gave his audience and he would not let his body fail him now.

And then, silence. Darkness.

The music fell with the lights and plunged the stadium in a sea of crushed velvet blackness. Even his Toxtricity had settled down, knowing his music as naturally as they knew their move-sets. He felt the hustle of bodies as his team fettered over him and ushered him backstage, mother-henning over him the way he had taught them to hen over Marnie. Piers swatted them away, though his swings were gentle and devoid of a target, harmless in their intent. In the time it took him to disappear off stage, Marnie came out in a flipping rush, diving off a platform and toppling forward. As soon as her heeled boots hit the floor, the pyrotechnics – that had been meticulously tested because _like hell my sis is gettin’ barbecued_ – erupted in a spray of sparks from eight pillars set below the stage and she picked up right where Piers left off. She had a yell like just her brother’s and often times Piers felt like the crowd was leaps and bounds more excited to her hear, which honestly made him so damn proud.

With the crowd sated, Piers was afforded enough time to not only catch his breath but steel his nerves for the next half of his show. He pushed blindly backstage until he met a solid wall of warm flesh kissed with spice and vanilla that carried comfort and familiarity. As soon as he stepped into arms’ reach, Raihan bent to encase Piers’ feverish flesh in his strong arms and offered a bottle of chilled water with the lid halfway cracked off. A wordless _hello_ filled the space between them when Piers gripped the soft fabric that covered Raihan’s torso and shuddered with a rasping cough against him. Piers tried to settle himself in the moment but his anxiety that he had done so well to push down during his performance rocked him with a vengeance and he shook from the legs up. It wracked through him in a wave that left him shoving away from Raihan in favor of the nearest bin to splatter technicolor dreams into the abyss. It wasn’t hard to find one and his pale hands hit the sides of the black barrel and he lurched over to hurl the contents of his stomach. This, unfortunately, was commonplace enough that he knew just how to fall forward to not get any of the mess in hair – thankful that tonight it had been styled into one tail and not three. Raihan moved too slow to help with his hair, so instead he settled for rubbing Piers’ back and cooing at him.

Eventually, Piers felt like he could breathe again and the black spots that speckled his vision dissipated enough for him to stand up straight – or rather what _he_ considered straight for his shite posture. The cold water was pushed back into his hands with a soft kiss on his chapped lips, Raihan undeterred by having witnessed his boyfriend ass over teakettle with the rubbish bin and losing his already weak hold on his stomach.

Piers turned his head and weakly batted Raihan away, with little success. A muffled protest of “ _’M gross,”_ accompanied his weak blows before he gave up and buckled into Raihan’s broad chest. 

A warm, sweet laugh brushed over his ear and evoked a shiver before he all but collapsed against Raihan and chugged half the bottle of water in his first go. Raihan found a place to flop down and held him close while Piers’ breathing eventually evened out to the point he considered himself ‘calm’ once more. They both lost count the number of times Raihan had grounded Piers when his anxiety wrenched the world from beneath him, when he simply waited there in support until Piers found it in him to calm down. When Raihan was sure the pale heap of angles in his lap had recovered, he spoke.

“So… I’ve packed bags for us to leave on holiday – hey, don’t give me that look, I asked Marnie for a check list.” Raihan fought the urge to nip Piers’ adorable nose as he raised it in indignant confusion and his brows knit in a non-verbal _the hell we are._

“What are you –” Piers fell silent when Raihan cocked a brow at him.

He continued. “We’re leavin’ as soon as you’re done here. I already told Rose I’m gonna be away from the Gym.” A full week in advance, in fact, so if the Chairman had any plans as far as their exhibition matches went, he had ample notice to schedule around Raihan’s plans.

Piers’ jaw open and closed a few times in response as if to speak, protest, something at Raihan’s words but the cocktail of emotions shaken, mixed, and stirred inside him kept his voice silent. Raihan stunned him at every turn, but he could not think of a time that someone had surprised him with a planned vacation. Rai had also taken the trouble to contact his sister for help, which both warmed and reassured him. When Raihan saw him grappling for words, he saved Piers the trouble and dipped down for another soft kiss.

“Where are we goin’?” Piers asked softly when the kiss broke, clinging to Raihan by they loose fabric of his hoodie.

“Circhester,” Raihan supplied and mouthed another slow kiss from him. “It’s the spring season so it won’t be too chilly, so we can enjoy the snow but not be stuck indoors the whole time.”

Piers hugged into Raihan’s frame and hid a smile in the soft knit fabric there. “I can’t wait…”

“So go back on and finish. You’re doing so damn good, look at how riled that crowd is! They love you, Piers.”

Piers processed the information and nodded. He had more than enough time to calm down and prepare for the second half of the show. With some remiss, he pushed himself out of the pit that was Raihan’s embrace. Out of habit, he untied his hair and made do by raking his polished nails though the strands in lieu of a brush to style himself back into composure. After a double thumbs up from one grinning dragon-tamer and a show off of the Team Yell shirt under his signature hoodie, Piers fell into a brisk run to rejoin Marnie on the stage and thrust himself right back into the livewire crowd.

Raihan watched him rejoin the tiding mass of sounds and electricity with a low grin to himself and turned Rotom back on, which he has instructed to turn off before Piers came face-to-face backstage. Their private moment was theirs alone, despite the twinge of want in the back of his mind that wished he’d had a photo to capture the way that Piers’ pale blue eyes lit up at his plans. Oh well, his machinations lay across the board fluidly; he was going to enjoy the rest of the show.

**_Am I loud too much? And proud too much? You wanted me in this stance._ **

Raihan watched Piers in admiration of his soul-wracking devotion to his audience. While he appreciated the visage of Piers’ long limbs of pale flesh over sharp bones and the way his black clothing made his snowfall skin incandesce, the heart in Piers’ performance got to Raihan more than the carnality of his attraction. He was _real_ , out there giving his all and wearing everything on a tattered sleeve for his crowd to see, brutally honest and unyielding. Raihan shook himself in a full-bodied jolt from his fawning to refocus his Rotom phone as Piers now climbed up on a platform while his Toxtricity rioted below him. The stills from this video were going to be _FIRE_.

**_Or on my back, you said I am not red enough, in bed enough. I’ve given up on romance, I’ve nothing left for love – I am, I am here_ **

****

Raihan mouthed along to Piers’ song silently as to not disrupt the audio of his recording. It took some time finding all the right bits, but the microphones in his Rotom phone were designed to muffle out any background or wind noise to better record clear sounds. He made the upgrades after the first time he ever recorded a live performance, and later found out it shared an additional perk when filming in the midst of a sandstorm, or on Dragon-back.

Piers, as an individual, was a deeply private person, and Raihan respected that. It took a while for him to warm up to have his picture taken, but he came to trust wholeheartedly that Raihan would never let one of his photos get out of his hands. From there came videos, mostly of him singing or when Raihan was having stupid boy hours in the mornings while Piers tucked half naked into his arms and hid in the mess of his hair while they were in bed, but the Personal Vault had videos that ventured into X-rated territory. Piers was convinced Raihan called it that just so he could talk about it in public and the populace would be none the wiser that he didn’t mean the _historical vault_ of Hammerlocke; instead Raihan just tortured him out in the open. Once Piers started performing again, Raihan made sure to record all his concerts and self-appointed himself the band’s videographer. Piers couldn’t deny, Raihan got some incredible videos, and the ways he edited them made for a handful of viral hits that blew up on his Pokégram account (of which Raihan had set up for him.)

This concert was the largest yet, given the crowd spilled out of the stadium and washed through the streets of Spikemuth, and once Raihan had his way with the clips he’d captured and got them uploaded – with Piers’ discretion of course – he’d hazard that Piers would be flooding Hammerlocke’s stadium next.

Three more songs after that one and Piers was still going strong, and Raihan checked the setlist taped to the wall, where he recognized Piers’ scratchy handwriting in pink gel pen “ _X NO ENCORES!! X_ ”. One song remained on the list, one that Raihan knew would chill every heart in the room and bring tears to those who had fully given their all in the cultivated orgy of emotion Piers dredged out of the crowd. His heart thumped in anticipation, both for the song and for the inevitable end when Piers was free and he would fly him away and have him to himself.

Dragons never were good at sharing.

**_Am I the star beneath the stairs? Am I the ghost upon the stage? Am I your anything?_ **

Piers lingered, seated at the center of the stage, softly crooning to his audience. The trance state fell over them as tangible as the soft blue light from Toxtricity glowing and emitting a pulse across the roof of the stadium. A gentle thrum of the guitar came in succession with the strum of the opposite, Amped Toxtricity, rocking the crowd into a soft-pedal hush. Building, building tension in the music of Piers’ voice and the drumbeat kicked in and the guitar played in earnest.

**_Will you wish upon? Will you walk upon me? I don’t want to die tonight._ **

****

Piers rose to his feet and cried out higher notes than the soft lullaby he had given the crowd, bringing about the pinnacle of his strong, resolute climax they had all been building towards.

**_Will you believe in me tonight?_ **

****

The music crashed around them as he delivered the last chorus, the last thank you for the crowd that had held on through his show, the crowd that had held him together when he shook from the inside out, the crowd that came ready to receive him after years of holding himself together and self-soothing with his music. Music had been Piers’ comfort and outlet in his years of uncertainty, in his years on his own as a young Gym Leader raising his little sister. He channeled unwritten volumes of his emotion into his beautiful words and tonight all of Galar stood behind him while he released his gifts.

A unified voice rose with his and chanted his own words back to him, sharing in this moment something that was simply that: a moment, gone too quickly and easily forgotten but in the brief seconds it lasted it would span an infinite vortex of time, a surreal event structured in emotion and solidarity. Every beat, every word, all here tonight before him.

**_Am I the star beneath the stairs? Am I the ghost upon the stage? Am I your anything?_ **

The baseline petered out long after Piers’ voice fell silent and the lights went down for the last time that night. He pulled away from his mic to pant, shaking head to heel with his exhaustion. He had done it, he had held out and delivered one of the best, if not _the_ _best_ show of his career. The endorphins kicked in then, like he had just been through a good romp or a damn good work out – not that Piers had any bearing on that, and he grinned though a few lurches of his chest, unsure if they were pants or laughter.

“I don’t do encores,” he cried out into the dark, his grin tapering the ends of his voice. “Goodnight!”

He fell away off the stage and into another world back to the warm lit room where Raihan waited for him, his twin boys ambling behind him. They had done so well, and both had more their earned their rest.

“Fancy that, boys, that was a damn good show!”

The two growled in affirmation and pushed up into Piers as he stepped to the small clearing as his dressing room, on the receiving end of pets and smiles as Piers retrieved his belt where their ‘balls were clipped in waiting. He let them eat a bit before they were ready to return, off to himself and finally catching his breath. His team came around after the crowd had began filing out, making sure there wasn’t too much damage done by all the trampling feet that were just as exhausted as he was. Toxtricity in their ‘balls, Piers clipped his belt around his waist and turned, ready to handle people. Raihan and Marnie waited patiently for him, both privy to Piers’ idiosyncrasies and the knowledge that after an event that taxing he needed a moment to himself to recharge.

“Oi,” Marnie chirped when they made eye contact, “that was a helluva show!”

“I should be tellin’ you that,” Piers looked down at her, pride tucked into the cervices of his eyes and lips. “You brought it tonight, Sis.”

Piers grinned and bashfully dipped his head a bit, unable to keep eye contact with her. Eyes now downcast, he caught view of the black trunk mid-shin in front of her. It was a beat-up thing littered with dents and Team Yell stickers, and unmistakably his.

“You two are really serious about this holiday thing, eh?”

It was Raihan’s turn to break out into a splitting grin. He had a shoulder bag lashed across his chest and a duffle the colors of the Dragon Gym’s uniforms slung off a shoulder, hand propped against the strap. “Sure am, babe. Six nights away.”

Piers’ eyes flared open in his surprise and he gaped at the massive male standing before him, and then to his little sister that barely came up to Raihan’s ribcage. “ _Six?_ You planned a bloody _week_ away?! Who’s gonna look after Marnie?”

Marnie rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I’m old enough t’ take care of m’self. Besides, you make it so I can’t go anywhere without the Team chasin’ me. I’ll be fine.”

Piers reeled around to face the few members of his team that had come to stand behind him in natural respect to their leader. Raihan grinned at the picture of perfect submission, like Piers was some big crime boss. He wasn’t, but he had the undying loyalty of his following to back it up if he ever chanced a new career path.

“Alright, listen up all of you. I’m goin’ out of town. You watch Marnie like your lives depend on it, because if anythin’, _anything’_ , happens to her you’ll be wishin’ you were dead once I’m done with ya. If she needs somethin’, get it for her. I’ll leave some cash behind for food, feed yourselves too while you’re at it.”

He continued on, not even to pause for a breath. Raihan and Marnie shared a look, and Raihan was fighting the urge to snicker at Piers’ hardass nature over Marnie, and her general, teenage exasperation. Piers was tried and true, if not predictable when it came to his little sister, and the whatfor he gave the team about keeping her safe might have sounded harsh, but it came from a place of good intent within his heart. Piers had a lot of love under his spiky exterior that kept his team loyal to him without question.

“No houseguests eith –”

Marnie interjected before Piers could finish. “Not fair! Gloria ‘n’ Hop are comin’ over. We’ve been plannin’ it for weeks!”

Piers looked at her, his lips pursed as though he could put up some form of defense against her frustrated little pout, but his resolve crumbled faster than he could brick up any walls against his baby sister. “Alright, fine. You can have ‘em over. Keep everyone in their ‘balls then and flip the cushion where Linoone used to claw at it.”

Triumphant, Marie nodded and gave Piers’ a squeeze around his skinny frame, nosing into him as he gently gave one of her pigtails an affectionate tug. “Got it. But it’s time for you to go now, Rai’s gonna burst from excitement.”

Piers looked up at his neglected lover, noting the eager bounce of his toes that belied his calm smile. “I supposed we better up the tempo then and get gone?”

Raihan smiled lovingly at him. “I’ve already called the Flying Taxi.”

Piers willed himself to let go of Marnie when Raihan knelt to stand Piers’ trunk up on its side to get a grip on it. The trunk was abandoned when Marnie came and hugged herself around Raihan too, and then carried off by two members of Team Yell out the side door, where one could infer the taxi was waiting. Raihan squeezed her in earnest, grinning.

“You two be good,” she said after she had pulled back to crane her neck up to look at him. “I already know what your intentions are with my bro after all that lube you had me pack.”

“Excuse me!?” Piers whipped around to Marnie, but was intercepted by Raihan and thrown over his shoulder.

“Come on now, let’s go before you have a coronary.” He turned on his heel and began to carry Piers off.

“Wha-what?”

“Bye Marnie!” Raihan called back to her, tossing the hand that wasn’t holding Piers up on his shoulder up in a salute goodbye. “I’ll keep him on a tight leash!”

Marnie giggled at her squirming brother and Raihan’s utter lack of concern with toting him around. “Somehow I believe that’s literal! Love you! Love you too, Bro! Relax!”

With their goodbyes behind them Raihan set about dragging Piers from the stadium with the help of Team Yell, who kept the crowd at bay from finding the otherwise conspicuous taxi. Raihan gave Piers a pat to his ass before setting him down at the landing pad where a massive Corviknight preened its glimmering wings, washed a bright silver in the moonlight. It was unaffected by the chill in the air that blew through, though swiveled a large eye when the movement of Piers’ violent shiver caught its attention. Raihan nodded at the team member who sat Piers’ trunk at the boot of the car to dismiss them and turned to hook his index fingers in the loops of Piers’ belt. The smaller male fell easily into Raihan’s pull and met the kiss that came down in the lost space between them. Arceus bless his Team for keeping away any prying fans from the pad – their relationship was scandalous enough even on the downlow, much less so if pictures of Piers’ letting Raihan practically tongue fuck his mouth made their way around online channels and into Rose’s corpulent lap.

Raihan pulled back and flashed that shit eating grin he got whenever things turned a bit more flirtatious between them.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all day,” he crooned.

Piers might have had a pop-shot comeback if he wasn’t already rosy at the chest and trying to come up for air.

Raihan knew the Meowth had Piers’ tongue and he cheekily reached to open the cab door. “Get on in, I’ll load up baby.”

Piers nodded and hefted himself into the back seat of the waiting taxi while Raihan safely packed their luggage into the boot, itemizing by weight with Piers’ metal trunk unphased by the cloth duffle and backpack thrown onto with no significant weight to bear. Piers’ sat in the far side of the cab and let his head lull on the cool window, able to enjoy the temperature now that he was out of the elements and there was not wind chill behind it. He watched the clouds roll past the stagnant moon and felt his lids begin to drift enough that he gave a hard start when the sound of Raihan shutting the boot and the accompanying noise broke the silence. Raihan’s weight dipped the car after and Piers sought his familiar scent.

With the door closed and the two of them sealed alone inside the taxi in the quiet it felt like an entirely different world away from the stadium and screaming crowds Piers had just been through. Raihan looked over to Piers and smiled as his heart gave a little _pang_ of fondness. One hand snared Piers’ thigh and aided in hauling the rest of his body up against Raihan. They had found early on that Piers enjoyed being _handled,_ which came easily with their size difference. The blush of Piers’ chest flared up again and he looked up at Raihan once he was cradled against the taut length of his torso.

“I still can’t believe you…” Piers whispered as though his voice was too loud for the vacuum of the cab. His fingers caught the pulls of Raihan’s hoodie and he looped his index to leash himself there.

Raihan closed his teal eyes and nosed at Piers’ temples. “You will once we’re in Circhester. There’s a hotel room with _Mr. and Mr. Kibana_ written all over it.”

Raihan knew he was pushing Piers, but the only scolding he got was one icy blue eye cracking open at him with a glare, though it was easy enough to get them to close again by keeping up his warm nuzzles. Piers felt soothed by the pleasant sensation but, like all good things, his anxieties ruined it before he could enjoy himself. Embarrassment welled up in his throat, concerned that after sweating like Slowpoke in summer might have left his scent none too fresh.

“Stop that, I’m all sweaty ‘n’ gross.” Piers squirmed in his arms.

Rai laughed but pulled back enough to be respectful. “You sure? You know I like the way you smell after a show.” And he did, Piers smelled natural and a bit like man, but more like frigid sea salt and the arid after-kiss of smoke from the pyrotechnics. The tip of Raihan’s dark tongue darted between his lips and he licked Piers’ temple to reiterate his statement. In response, gooseflesh spread across Piers’ pale body and he shuddered with a whine. He conceded to Raihan’s primal what-ever-it-was and allowed the dragon to keep nosing him.

He continued on until the beat of the Corviknight’s wings rocked the taxi and the fleeting sensation of weightlessness took hold as they began their ascent. Piers passed out before they had even fully left the ground, waking himself with a start when his head lolled too hard. Raihan quieted him down and had him pillow his head on his shoulder and guided his long, spindly fingers into the lacework of his own. After that, he was out again in no time. For as loud as he could get, he was equally as quiet when left to himself. Now, the only sign he had fallen asleep was the subtle increase in weight at Raihan’s side as his body gave out with a slump.

While his lover rested, Raihan used his time to check their itinerary, his Chatot, and pet Piers. When it came time he woke, the pair would be miles away from everyday life and landing into a much needed week of pleasure and play.

§ ☼ §

It was three a.m. when they finally landed in Circhester.

It fell between the cracks that Piers was a restless sleeper, and the duration of their flight was plagued by his rough nightmares. Raihan would coo and shush him each time he jolted and watch with concern as Piers’ eyes darted under his lids. Warm hands rubbed slow circles at Piers’ chest and eventually beat out the nightmares enough for him to sleep easy, and Raihan took enjoyment just watching his lover while they soared through the night skies.  
When the twinkling lights of Circhester came into view, the Corviknight folded a wing and brought them into a steep spiral down to the snow-covered streets below. Piers slept like the dead once he was finally out, and Raihan was used to similar maneuvers on the back of his Flygon, so neither of them were phased by the steep careen of the cab. The Corviknight at last unfurled both of its behemoth wings and caught the wind drag to bring them to a gentle halt before the hotel.

Hotel Ionia stood proud in the center of the antiquated city with Eastern and Western buildings mirroring one another like open hands to invite weary travelers in to find the respite from the snowy wilderness surrounding the city’s outskirts. The Corviknight settled at the Western building as requested by Raihan to its driver. This was in part to enjoy the sunsets, but more so because Piers did NOT do mornings and any sunlight that trickled in through the window would set his mood for the first half of the day. Raihan came prepared.

The cabbie would wait a little while longer for them to check in, so Raihan didn’t bother waking Piers. With great difficulty and gentle movements, he slid out from under Piers and leaned him back against the corner of the cab. He plucked his Rotom from his pocket and tucked into Piers’ hand, who subconsciously gripped it and nestled himself back into comfort. This was so that if Piers woke up and Raihan wasn’t there, his sleep addled mind wouldn’t panic. Long limbs found relief once Raihan was out of the taxi and stretching, making sure to extend every muscle he could in between his rock-solid calves and splayed fingers. The cabbie had already received his fare, but Raihan made sure to tip him and offer his thanks for allowing him time to unload. Raihan jogged around to the boot, delighted in the way his shoes crunched in the fresh snow, and popped the clutch to unload their luggage. If he had it his way, he would be unloaded and checked in all before Piers woke and noticed his absence.

He made sure to fish his wallet out of his bag before loading himself down and heading into the hotel. His credit card and ID were clamped under one sharp canine as he strolled to the concierge while making carrying a metal trunk in his arms with two bags strapped to his chest _easy._ The idea of Raihan having an ID was a rich punchline, given there wasn’t a soul in Galar who didn’t know his face, but still he placed it on the counter a long with his card when he hit his destination.

The stewardess didn’t even look at the two pieces of plastic as she began preparation. “Good Evening, Mr. Kibana. Thank you for calling ahead to confirm your reservation. You room is ready, top floor, Room 303.”

Raihan lazily leaned on the counter to fill out all the necessary paperwork and slid it back the stewardess’ way, and in return she slipped him both his cards. Tucked underneath was a copy of his common League Card, which earned him a blush when he caught it and looked up at her. Scarab-wing ink shone violet-blue over his the small copy of his body and dried black before its return and he smiled warmly. “I trust that you can keep it a secret I’m here this weekend, yeah?” He procured one of his rare league cards from his bag. “And who I’m with.”

The stewardess jackhammered her chin and clutched the two cards to her chest. “Yes of course!”

Raihan grinned wider and stood up straight. “Thank you, you’ve been a treat. Could I get some help with the luggage?”

The girl reeled herself in and held back from flailing as she summoned the bellhop, who came with a gold cart in tow and gestured to the heavy trunk at Raihan’s feet. Raihan lifted the thing and placed it on the cart himself and dropped his duffle on top. “Thanks, I’ve got it from here.”

He tipped the bellhop anyway with another quick thanks. To those who didn’t know Raihan, from the outside looking in it appeared as though he capped an unnecessary flex everywhere he went– this was leagues away from the truth. Raihan believed in rewarding hard work and being thankful to those who provided service to you, and let kindness and respect lead him.

Getting up to the third floor, depositing their luggage, and zipping back down the elevator took little time, Raihan hoped that Piers was still out cold. Sure enough, when he returned to the taxi the Dark Leader hadn’t budged, head dropped back and mouth open in the faintest snore. Raihan caged him with his body and cupped his pale cheek, thumbing away the bit of drool that wet the corner of Piers’ mouth. When the gentle motion wasn’t enough to rouse him, Raihan laved warm kisses across his forehead and cheeks with audible smooches.

In delirium, Piers blinked awake and attempted to get a bearing on their location, but Raihan’s body swallowed his field of vision whole and rendered that nigh impossible.

“We’re here, babe,” Raihan whispered and rubbed at Piers’ hips to help wake him further. “Come on.”

Piers yawned and tried to sit up. “I’ll get m’trunk.”

Raihan withdrew to allow him the room to sit up fully. “Already taken care of, babe. All you have to do is walk to our hotel room. Or I could carry—”

Piers put his foot into Raihan’s thigh to get him to fully back away. “I’ve got two workin’ legs, go kick rocks, Rai.”

An exercise in self-control, Raihan stifled his laugh at Piers’ threat and backed out of the car, watching as he learned to use his legs like a newborn Ponyta, wobbling as he shook the sleep out of them. He shivered a bit and looked up at the night sky to a heavy gibbous moon that spilled bright white light strong enough for Piers to see his surroundings with dazzling distinction. The snow reflected what it could, and took the warm hue of hotel lighting closer to the structure. The hotel was, as his tired mind put it, _huge_.

Raihan had made three laps around Piers by the time he had made it even remotely close the glass doors , which Raihan leaned forward to open for him. Piers stepped into the warmly lit lobby decorated by rich textures of ivory and olive. He had barely paid attention to this hotel in his youth during his gym challenge and hadn’t realized just how massive the inner limits were. His boots gave when he walked across the rug that led to the concierge, proud of its plush self. The chandelier at the heart of the room was wrought with glittering crystal and could definitely kill him if it fell, so he gave it wide berth and a look of awe. Raihan pulled him under one of the columns and towards the elevator, noting Piers’ morbidity and choosing not to draw attention to it.

“I cannot believe we’re stayin’ here,” Piers told him once the elevator doors closed and solitary confines found them. “Let me split the bill with ya.”

Raihan shook his head and pinned Piers into the corner of the elevator with his weight braced on his forearm above them. “Not gonna happen, this is my treat for you and I’m paying.”

Piers put his hands on Raihan’s hips and looked up at him through his lashes and bit his own lip, eliciting and interested growl from the larger male. “Thank you, Rai, really.”

“Don’t mention it. I love you and I like to do nice shit for you.”

Piers angled his arms around Raihan’s neck and stood on his toes to kiss him until the elevator chimed that they had arrived to their destined floor. Both men pulled back, panting. With his arm hooped around Piers’ narrow waist, Raihan guided him to their room. He procured the card in playful flourish and made a show of opening the door for Piers.

“Your space for the next week, Pierser.”

Piers followed the flourish of Raihan’s hand and stepped into the cool room, drinking in his surroundings. Deep carmine bled through the walls over dark carpet and darker wood furniture. The lineup of dark cherrywood fixtures included an entertainment center with a flat screen, two night stands, a desk, coffee table, and a king-sized bed pressed against the right hand wall with crisp white linens and a scarlet duvet. There was also a white settee in the far corner that Piers would have hazarded a guess it pulled out into another bed. All in all, it looked very much suited to Raihan’s tastes.

“Isn’t it sexy?”Raihan purred with a squeeze to Piers’ behind. “The vibe makes me wanna fuck.”

Icy eyes rolled back into the skull housing them. “Everything makes you want t’fuck.”

He laughed a bit at Raihan, no malice behind his words. Piers hadn’t so much as made it three feet in the door before he was reaching for Obstagoon’s ‘ball clipped to his belt, habit. She was released into the open to stretch with a loud grunt and lolling tongue, and Piers prepared his scolding before she could find anything to get into. “Don’t go tearin’ stuff up now.”

“Where’s dad?” Raihan asked, grinning, immediately noticing that Piers had elected to bring his older, female Obstagoon over his male.

“At home watchin’ the brood.”

The implications there were that he had left his male at home to watch over the Zigzagoon that Raihan had helped to breed. Raihan’s resulting smile held entirely more pride than it should have, though before Piers could tell him to wipe it off the sound of a ‘ball opening caught their attention. A little orange lump was soon crawling around the room looking for trouble to get into.

“Hey little guy!” Raihan crouched to regard his Trapinch, who cooed happily when it saw his Trainer. “Wanted to join the fun, huh?”

“Popped out again, eh?” Piers laughed and set about taking his jewelry off and setting it on the entertainment center. He was curious as to where Raihan had put his trunk, assuming it must be in the water closet. “Bad little thing.”

Raihan looked up, dread in his face. “Why do you think I haven’t evolved him yet? I’m not ready for wings.” Raihan had mentioned on more than one occasion his disdain for the Vibrava stage. _‘All the idiocy of a baby, but now it can fly.’_

Trapinch was then regarded by an interested black snoot as Obstagoon came to figure out if the other Pokémon in the room was friend or foe. When the scent triggered recognition, Obstagoon gave a fond grunt and let the little thing alone in favor of going over to curl up on the settee.

Raihan rose, picking the Trapinch up with him. Piers still didn’t know how he did that, given the little shit was _heavy_ and had knocked the wind out of Raihan more than once just climbing on him. Piers rubbed the back of his head and peered through his bangs at the two in front of him. Now that they were finally settled, he was aware of just how disgusting he still felt. Sweat and dirt caked his body and he could _smell_ himself, which was arguably worse.

“Mind if I take a shower?” Piers squirmed where he stood, ready to scald his skin off in water that was way too hot and scrub himself until he was pink and raw.

Raihan shook his head as he gently dumped Trapinch on the bed to get comfortable. “Nah babe, go ahead. Take as long as you need, I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Raihan afforded Piers his privacy and flopped on the bed with Trapinch, waving at Piers who nodded thankfully and sealed himself away. He leaned back against the door with a rough exhale, grimacing. After long, he pushed up off the door with his shoulders and toed off his boots and kicked them away, landing against his previously missing trunk. His tanktop peeled like skin after blistering on the beach all day off him, indicative of what a nightmare his pants were going to be. He took a moment to find the emotional stability to wrest them off, kicking them inside out as he freed his boney ankles. His black satin briefs joined the pile after.

Piers started the shower up and fumbled with the dial as he tried to discern which direction would give him hot water. After an ample struggle, he let the shower run and spent way to long staring at himself naked in the mirror.

He was just so _gaunt_ , he thought as he pulled at his cheeks and inspected the heather-hued bags under his eyes. Next he looked at his arms, a half scoop of muscle, hold the buff, topped with skin so thin that if you held it too hard would turn purple—he knew from experience over one too many occasions. He took his hair down, counted his ribs, touched his hip bones, and then regarded his flaccid manhood in the mirror. He didn’t mind it, and Raihan certainly liked it, so that was all that mattered, right? Steam eventually from the shower clung to the mirror and put an end to his self-deprecation, and Piers figured he should finally get in.

When he pulled back the curtain he saw two itty bitty bottles, one of conditioner and the other of shampoo, not even a full two ounces between them. “Oh that’s not gonna do.”

He cracked open the door and called out to Raihan. “Rai? Can I trouble ya?”

“Always. What’s up?” Raihan had sat up and turned so his voice would carry in the right direction.

“There isn’t enough shampoo to even begin to deal with my hair. Would you pop down for some more?” Piers hid his nude body behind the door and where he peered out he looked like a floating head in a tangle of hair.

Raihan obliged and hopped to his feet. “Come on, Obstagoon. Even these big hands can’t hold all he needs, so you’re gonna have to help.”

Piers watched his girl rise from her rather comfortable, belly down position on the settee and trot behind him, obeying her Trainer’s partner; any competent Trainer would see the gravity in that. “We will be back, babe. You can go ahead and get in.”

Raihan swiped the one of the two room keys from the entertainment center and kissed the floating head of his boyfriend, not mentioning that out of the corner of his eye he could see Piers’ entire ass reflected in the mirror. When they were gone, Piers shut the door once more and headed to the steaming shower. The porcelain of the tub was warmed from the heat of the water, so he eased down into the basin and sat with his knees up and face between them, trying to decompress. The spray beat down on the knot of his spine and the curtain of his long hair enshrouded him, blocking out everything but the echo of his breathing in the cavern between his chest and thighs.

That said, Piers didn’t hear the _THUD_ of Trapinch launching itself off the bed, sans grace. It had put him in a bad mood that he did not get to tag along and now he roamed blindly, looking for a familiar ankle to nip. The sound of running water interested the little thing, so he followed it, head-butting the door that was left slightly ajar until he found his way in. Conspicious was a good word to use at the sounds of the rummaging Pokémon, and Piers lifted the shawl of hair from around him to see with one forearm, like some eldritch sea-horror emerging from sickly green depths.

“Rai?”

Trapinch chirped at the nickname, knowing _exactly_ who Raihan was, and also recognizing Piers’ voice. The singer pulled the shower curtain aside and smiled when he saw the small monster. “Does your Momma know you’re down?”

As far as Trapinch was concerned, Raihan was Mom – and Rai thought so too – but it had come to like Piers _almost_ as much since the two spent so much time together. Piers shifted to accommodate Trapinch and crossed his arms over the lip of the tub and folded his legs to the side of him to sit so he could comfortably watch the tiny thing without craning his neck.

Trapinch made a frustrated string of grunts, as though telling Piers that he was mad that he didn’t get to go out with the other two. Piers listened, chuckled, and dropped a few globules of water onto Trapinch’s big head from the tips of his pruned fingers. It licked at the droplets and tried to stand up on the side of the tub for more, and Piers continued to play with the little thing. At a glance, you wouldn’t be able to tell just how special this Trapinch was, and how carefully Raihan had bred for it. At six IVs and adamant nature, it would fetch top dollar on just about any market; Raihan, however, would never even _consider_ selling him.

Trapinch was content playing with Piers, and the company took Piers out of his own head enough to finally relax. In the back of his mind he soothed himself that their Pokémon were at ease with their respective partners, showing that they were a good match. Piers hated how much he sought validation in the small things, but it was there none the less.

Raihan returned after some time, hands and pockets filled with all the shampoo he could swindle off the stewardess – which ended up being plenty given he had amped up his natural charm. He knocked as best he could at the half-open door, but Obstagoon nosed her way in with no regard for privacy toward her trainer. He wasn’t exactly sure if there had ever been privacy between the two of them anyway; Piers had owned her since he was a child and she a Zigzagoon. Piers shrieked as she tore the shower curtain open with her teeth and dumped her handfuls of small bottles into the tub with him, excitedly grunting a slobbering roar. This startled Trapinch, who tried to run from Obstagoon and only succeeded in running head down into Raihan’s shin – _that was going to bruise later_.

Raihan laughed and grimaced, depositing his haul onto the counter and going to check on Piers, who endeavored to catch his breath after being startled. Obstagoon looked pleased with herself.

“Thanks, Rai…” Piers mumbled, a tad embarrassed at his outburst. He shifted to pick up the shampoo bottles and pat Obstagoon’s head lightly, not wanting to catch any of her shedding fur on his wet hands. “Thanks, girl.”

Raihan rounded up the Pokémon and shooed them out of the bathroom. “Off with you two, I’ll feed you two when I’m done.” They obeyed him without complaint, half out of respect, half out of the bribe of food.

Once alone, Raihan smiled down at Piers and unzipped his hoodie to unload the rest of what he had gotten onto the counter. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Piers returned softly, almost shy. It was a thing they did, some odd, playful peculiarity that came about when they were alone, probably stemming from the compromise of Piers not being much of a conversationalist and Raihan able to chat for hours on end.

Raihan stepped over to the shower and fixed the curtain to envelope Piers back in the steam heat of his bath. “There, now you can shower proper. I’ll have to pick up some real shampoo tomorrow for you.”

Piers shook his head. “I’ll manage with this, thank you Rai.”

Raihan crouched to be as eye level with Piers as he could from where we was leaning out of the spray on on the lip of the tub. He kissed his forehead and regarded him fondly. “You know, I bet Marnie had our backs and packed some.”

Piers facepalmed. “I bet you’re right.”

Raihan stood and went to crack open Pier’s trunk, finding a bag of toiletries. “She sure did. Hell.”

Piers graciously accepted the much larger bottle shampoo that was passed to him and Raihan spoke again. “I’m gonna go wind down, okay? Take your time and feel better, alright?”

He winked and left Piers to his shower after a distracted nod from his lover.

Piers didn’t feel like staying too much longer in the water, extremities pruned and the grime scourged away for the most part from the water pressure alone. He stood up carefully – minding all the bottles Obstagoon had dumped at his feet – and began the chore of washing all of his hair. Tedious as it may be, he wouldn’t change his hairstyle; that he could say with conviction was something he liked about himself. Circhester’s water didn’t over lather the soap and allowed for easy wash, and Piers ran his hands with the excess shampoo over his body to half-ass wash whatever the water hadn’t sloughed away already. He felt clean, finally, free of sweat, dirt, and glitter. The heat of the shower now left him short of breath, so he flipped the dial to the blue and braced himself against the wall. The shock of cold was in part to keep his hair from frizzing, but it also served to cut the light-headedness and bring him back into focus.

Ready for bed was an understatement, so he dried his hair as minimally as he could get away with and, rather than finding something to sleep in, he slipped into the hoodie Raihan left behind. He didn’t bother with the trunk; Piers usually slept in the raw and both Marnie and Raihan were aware of this, so the expectation of pajamas was absent. Besides, Raihan’s hoodie was big enough on him that it fell mid thigh and he could tuck up into it with ease.

He found Raihan lounging on the bed, back propped up against the pillows and legs crossed at the ankle. Loose grey sweats hung low on his hips, giving clandestine peeks of his hip bones and his glorious torso on full display. Piers looked over the broad chest and slender waist sculpted with muscle and scars – no one would claim raising dragons as easy work. Where he bent at the waist rested the slightest crease just over his half-outie, half-innie belly button, as Piers referred to his navel. Raihan had taken his hair down, long silk strands falling down the side of his face opposite to Piers. He looked up with a lazy smile when Piers stepped into the open area and patted the bed beside him, beckoning his lover. Obstagoon already snored away on the settee, and Trapinch was noshing at its dinner on the floor; everyone had wound down and now waited for him to join their peaceful ranks.

Piers crawled across the plush bed and folded into Raihan’s side, making his shoulder into pillow. Raihan smoothed a few wavy wisps of hair from Piers’ face and nodded towards the television, where he hooked up Rotom and had pulled up the raw footage from the concert. “Piers, baby, you’re so fucking talented! I’ve already pulled the stills that looked best from this, but fuck, all of this raw energy you have?? I can’t believe I got this on film.”

Piers pulled up the fang-lined hood and buried his face into Raihan. He knew how to take a compliment about as well as a garden slug. “Ya didn’t technically. World’s gone digital ‘n’all, analog’s dead, mate.”

Raihan snorted and played back a few clips for him, knowing Piers would peek out eventually from his hiding area. From hooded safety, Piers watched himself up on the stage, skipping across it with a liveliness that surprised him. He didn’t see anywhere in the footage where he had faltered, or even showed signs of tiring, even though he could clearly remember his mind and body screaming at him that it wanted to stop.

“You have such as strong stance, look at you, wide pace and grounded. I feel like I’m watchin’ you battle.” Raihan continued with his praise, completely genuine. His smile touched all the way into his eyes, a delighted glow about him. “And Arceus your _face_ when you’re singin’!”

“Ah, ‘m not that great,” he muttered against Raihan’s pec, “but… thank you?”

Raihan pushed the hood away from Piers and kissed the top of his head, chuckling at Piers attempt to accept his compliments. He figured it was best that he didn’t push Piers anymore on it and flipped over to regular hotel TV. Onscreen, _Ship of Dhelmise_ played midway through and would most likely re-run into the morning. Rai knew this to be one of Piers’ favorite horror flicks, so there was a bit of giddy delight in his smile as he sat upright.

“Sit up, babe. Lemme fix your hair.”

Piers pushed up onto all fours and sat back onto his heels. Since they first started whatever it was that they did, Raihan had been fascinated with Piers’ hair. Piers at first thought it Rai had some weird fetish not worth bringing up, but he came to realize that it was just Raihan’s kindness coming through. He observed and put together how Piers felt about his hair, and just how easy it was to tangle when they bedded down. The first night they shared a bed, Piers – embarrassingly – woke up with a massive Raticate’s nest that put him off from the idea of sleeping with Raihan for weeks, until Rai had finally worn him back down and coaxed him to come back over. The second time they shared a bed, Raihan asked if he could braid his hair, and now he practiced this intimate ritual every night they spent together.

Raihan climbed around Piers and settled cross-legged behind him, wiggling on Piers’ ass purposefully and earning a swat. He laughed as he gathered up the cool, still damp strands of Piers’ hair and sectioned them off three-fold, as though he was going to style it into its usual three-tailed frenzy.

“I figured I’d let you sleep until 10:00 tomorrow,” he said as he started locking the sections of hair over one another, making for a thick, loose fishtail. “Though I’ll probably be up at seven.”

Piers fought his groan at the time frame. It’s not as though it was an unreasonable time, and as early as it was for him, he knew it was late for Raihan, who rose with the sun as the embodiment of a morning person. “It’s 5:37 now, Rai.”

Rai looked behind him at the clock on the bedside table, glaring the time announced by means of angry red letters. “Okay, make that 9:00 and 11:30.”

“Why are we gettin’ up in the first pla---ace,” Piers’ was interrupted by a yawn that snuck up on him from nowhere. Raihan’s gentle ministrations in his hair and the rock of his body from the pull began to lull him down.

“Well, breakfast only runs so long, and I gotta fuel you up for what I have in store tomorrow. The shopping here is lit.”

Shopping was something they both enjoyed as it turned out, and the idea was appealing, though Piers still furrowed his brow. “You made plans?”

Raihan laughed, knowing that Piers did not mean his question at all how it came out. “Yes, a whole day’s worth, every day that we’re here. Not too strict either, so there’s wiggle room if we want to nap or find something else to do.”

Piers instantly felt bad, realize what a dick he had just come off as. “Fuck ‘m sorry, I just, I’m surprised is all, not because of you, no fuck not at all you, I just—” Piers fell silent, foot so far in his mouth he was about to choke. ‘ _Don’t really think I’m worth it, that’s all._ ’

Raihan shook his head and tied off the end of the beautiful braid he had made, which would make for some gorgeous curls in Piers’ already wavy hair as it dried overnight to be undone in the morning. “Did you really think I was going to take you for a marathon fuckfest?”

“Well,” Piers ducked in bashful fashion, “not exactly.”

Another warm rumble of laughter came from within Raihan’s chest, and he pulled Piers into his arms and kissed him, warm and soft against the other’s cool lips. Full, warm lips immixed against his own became the last bit of soothing Piers needed to fully to accept this was happening in real life.

“No babe, I want to make this special for you. You are so much more to me than just a good lay.”

“Articulate,” Piers snorted, though it was a playful mask to both goad Raihan and cover up how much he had his heart figuratively swelling.

He rolled his eyes and pushed Raihan down like a body pillow to be molded into a better position. Raihan reached to flick off the lamp on the table and wrested the comforter over the two of them, tucking down and catching Piers’ waist in his arm. As a unit, they slept comfortably together, alone both stomach sleepers but when put together Raihan took to sleeping on his back and tucking Piers on his side into the groove of his body. More times than not, Piers would end up on top of him, belly down and face buried just like the Obstagoon sleeping over on the settee in the corner of the room.

Raihan murmured his goodnight and was out not three minutes after, softly snoring with his head lolled toward Piers. It would take Piers longer to get to sleep than his lover, but after the long day he had had, sleep claimed him, promising to cleanse him of his weariness and exhaustion. His eyes fought to stay open but he soon succumbed, though not before he allowed happiness to well up within him and allow a true smile.

Yes, he could let himself enjoy this.

**Author's Note:**

> Upload Schedule: Thursdays
> 
> Currently Working on:  
> \-- Uploading Piers' setlist into a playlist.  
> \-- Illustrating covers for each chapter
> 
> xXx PIERS' SET LIST xXx  
> I Hope You Suffer  
> Endlessly, She Said  
> Clove Smoke Catharsis  
> Kill Caustic  
> Feed From The Floor
> 
> \- INTERMISSION - 
> 
> Snow Cats  
> She Speaks The Language  
> 37mm  
> The Interview  
> God Called In Sick Today  
> Morning Star


End file.
